snowy evening and a hedgehog
by malec-is-totally-foreverz
Summary: johnlock stuff based on a pic i saw in devientart under john lock - - rated T for details but its basicly a k rating for the content... um idk wat else to say... derp deep... sherlock and john falling 4 each other basically. MY FAVE SHIP EVA! so if u want to read it, go ahead... enjoy!


Sherlock fanfic: a snowy evening and a hedgehog by Victoria Hubley

Rated K for everyone - comfort /friendship/romance 3

Warning: its all romantical and stuff (nothing inappropriate I promise!) . If

u don't watch Sherlock, don't worry! No spoilers here! If you don't ship

Johnlock... GO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE. This is a story that is based off of a picture

i saw on devientart that made me want to write a fanfic. Thank you! Please keep

your hands and feet in the ride at all times lol. ENJOY! (I apologize for

the length and the crazy amount of detail derp derp 3)

It was another peaceful night in 221 b. the snow was falling softly outside the

window covering the streets with a blanket of shimmering white, glowing in the

streetlights. Sherlock had gone into town for a case, leaving John home to tend

to his blog. John had turned off his computer realizing the time; it was the

middle of the night. Sherlock wasn't back yet and John had gotten hungry. He

walked into the kitchen in his night shirt and pants. He had no shoes and no

robe on despite the slight chill that fell in the air of the apartment. He

shuffled through the kitchen quietly, gathering ingredients for his late dinner.

'maybe I should make some for Sherlock, in case he's hungry when he gets back'

thought John. He put the selected ingredients in a pot and put it over the small

fire coming from the stove. The only light in the flat was coming from the

candles in the hallway, the small stove fire and the soft moon light shining in

through the window. John sat at the table waiting for the water to boil, gazing

lazily out the window at the moonlit, snow covered world around him. After a few

seconds he could barely make out a silhouette of a tall man walking down the

street. The man drops a small thing that John could make out as a small box the

size of his fist with a bow on it. He leans down to pick up the present box with

his left hand and swiftly brushes off the snow on it with his right, trying not

to let the damp, cold snow ruin it. Then the tall man straightens back up and

keeps walking until he is out of johns view. John sighs; the water has started

boiling. John gets up and picks up the wooden spoon so he can stir the

ingredients in the pot. He starts stirring the food in slow, tired circles. He

pauses for a moment as he hears the front door open, creaking softly. He keeps

stirring when he hears the door shut with a loud bang, and a curse uttered by

the visitor. John smiles to himself, knowing that today's case was probably a

success and that Sherlock was back at the flat. He shifts slightly as he hears

Sherlock walking up the old, creaky steps to the hall of their flat. Sherlock

takes off his coat and scarf and heads to his bedroom to change into his night

clothes. John listens to the shuffle of clothing coming from the otherwise

silent part of the flat while he continues stirring the content of the pot.

Sherlock emerges from his room with almost complete silence, pauses in the

corridor to breathe in the sent of the food cooking in the kitchen, and breathes

out heavily. John notes sherlock's presence as he walks into the room. The

shuffle of sherlock's robe getting closer and closer with every step. John stops

stirring for a moment which causes Sherlock to hesitate until John starts

stirring again. After a while, John forgets sherlock's presence and starts

humming a song he heard earlier that day. Sherlock pauses and listens for a

minute as if entranced by the melody coming from the lips of his flatmate. John

continues humming until he feels the faint brush of someone breathing softly

behind him. Sherlock gets slightly closer until he is breathing down John's

neck. John shudders in response but continues stirring as if he didn't feel the

heat of another human being radiating on his back. Of course Sherlock, being the

observant detective he is, noticed the slight tremble. Sherlock leans over,

ever so closely so that his head is a millimetre* away from resting on John's

shoulder. John glances over at the detective to see him watching John's hands as

he stirs the contents of the pot. John feels the detective's dark curly hair

brush the side of his Neck, and the breath caressing his collar bone. Sherlock's

Cupid bow lips part slightly as he whispers a barely audible question, " what

are you cooking?" John smirks and replies equally as quiet, " your standing

right here. I think you can deduce that one yourself." even their whispers

sound loud in the silence of their flat. Their softly spoken words echo through

the room filling the quiet room with sound. John feels sherlock's body is now

resting against him, sherlock's head leaning on John's shoulder. John fights

back a smile, trying not to show how much he enjoys the close comfort of his

flatmate. John feels Sherlock shift slightly to the left, causing John to feel

something sharp poking into his back. The detective notices his discomfort and

pulls the sharp thing out of his robe pocket. " I got you something John,"

purred Sherlock softly. "It isn't much, but it made me think of you." he

reached around John to hand him the present. Sherlock's arm brushed John's side

as he hands him a dark colored box. John put the wooden spoon down and wrapped

his tired fingers around the Strands of ribbon connected to the elegant red bow.

He tugged the ribbon, slowly undoing the elaborate knot. John heard Sherlock

deeply breathe in as he took the top of the box off, extracting from it, a

peculiar-shaped carving. " what is this?" asked John. " It's... A hedgehog."

sherlock replied . The figure was a wooden hedgehog with blue paint outlining

its features. John held it in his palm, observing it from different angles.

Hedgehogs are john's favorite animals. He gave a small smile and whispered, " I

love it Sherlock. Thank you." Sherlock released a small sigh of relief and

turned his head away slightly so John couldn't see the grin blooming on his pale

face. John set the hedgehog and the box aside and continued stirring the

contents of the pot. When the food was finally done boiling, he slowly turned

off the fire, not wanting Sherlock to move from the comfortable position against

John's back. Sherlock had noticed that the food was finished so he pulled away

swiftly as if he was just now noticing the closeness of his flatmate. Sherlock

sat down at the table behind him, picking up a glass of wine that John had

earlier left unfinished. As Sherlock drank the remaining of John's wine, John

was putting the food in bowls for both of them while adjusting unhappily to the

cool air of the flat; which he hadn't felt when Sherlock was so near. John

gathered silverware and set it next to Sherlock, on the table. As John gathered

the bowls, he could feel the detective watching his movements. John turned

around and set the table. Sherlock's eyes followed his every move, making John's

heart beat faster then usual. "I made your favorite." said john. He put the

bowls on the table and moved to sit down, when Sherlock pulled out the chair

next to him and gestured for John to sit. John blushed and sat down hurriedly In

the chair next to Sherlock. He picked up his spoon and started eating. Much to

John's amazement, so did Sherlock. John cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock, silently

asking why he was eating. Sherlock never eats ( no matter how much John pesters

him) while he is on a case. "The case is finished now. The barber did it.

Plus-" Sherlock suddenly stopped speaking and continued eating his soup.

Confused, John asked, " plus what?" "nothing" replied Sherlock hastily. John

dropped the subject yet pondered what the detective may have been about to say.

They kept eating in silence for a few minutes, until John finished his dinner

and picked up his plate to put it in the sink. Sherlock, surprisingly, asked for

seconds. It pleased John that the detective was actually eating for once. John

leaned against the counter, watching Sherlock, watching with wide eyes as he ate

every last drop. When Sherlock finished his dinner, he glanced up at John and

caught his gaze. They continued to stare at each other, challenging the other to

look away. both of them jumped as the clock struck 2 which caused a series of

giggling between the two men. 'wow' thought John 'here we are at 2 A.M. giggling

like a couple of primary school girls,' but no matter how hard he tried, he

couldn't stop laughing. After several minutes the two men calmed down, and john

asked Sherlock softly , " how is it that a hedgehog made you think of me?"

Sherlock looked around nervously then whispered back, " um... I don't know... It

kinda just-" Sherlock waved his hands in John's direction. " looked like me?"

john teased. Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm. " No! That isn't what I meant!"

Sherlock exclaimed. " Ok ok, I was just teasing you! Quiet down or you will

wake up the entire street." Sherlock blushed, embarrassed and played with a

loose screw in the side of the table. John straightened up and said, "I think

I'm ready for bed." John was walking by Sherlock on his way to his room when

Sherlock grabbed his wrist. Sherlock sighed, " what I was going to say before

was: plus... YOU were the one that made it for me." John smiled at this. With a

sudden burst of courage, he leaned down and gave Sherlock a quick, chaste kiss

on the forehead. John tried to back away quickly, embarrassed at what he had

just done, but sherlock's iron grip tightened around his wrist. " I..."

stammered John, who's face was turning a crimson red. Sherlock just kept

staring at the wall with a face blank of expression, as if he didn't know what

to do with himself. A long moment passed, and John thought Sherlock was going to

yell at him or something. But Sherlock turned towards John and pulled John down

against him. After a moment, John's brain finally registered that he, John

Watson, was kissing the famous Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting

detective, and more surprisingly at that, he was enjoying it. It was the

greatest thing he had ever felt. Sherlock's lips pressed against his, Sherlock's

arms wrapped around johns neck and vice versa; nothing in the word could compare

to this. When they finally parted to breathe, sherlock was breathing heavily,

his face flushed, and for the first time in a long while, John saw the detective

smiling. Not an arrogant smirk or a sexy half smile that drove John mad, but a

full grin. It was the greatest sight John had ever seen, Sherlock being so

happy, John couldn't help but smile back. John turned to go to his bedroom when

Sherlock whispered, " John?" "yes?" he replied. " how did you know? " asked

Sherlock quietly. " know what?" John asked confusedly. "what my favorite kind

of soup was?" John chuckled, "I made a deduction. How did you know my favorite

animal was?" Sherlock smiled, "I am also capable of making deductions John, in

case you've forgotten." John smiled, then remembered the present he had left on

the counter. He went and retrieved it, then walked into the living room.

Sherlock followed him curiously. John reached up and put the wooden hedgehog on

display on the mantle. " perfect." said John. "I concur." Sherlock agreed in a

satisfied tone. They walked back into he kitchen, sherlock put his bowl in the

sink and walked back over to John. Without a word, Sherlock enveloped John in a

warm hug. John hugged back, feeling happy and safe in the arms of his flatmate.

Sherlock unwillingly released John from his arms and said good nite. John walked

towards his room, and paused when he heard Sherlock's whisper, "I love you

John." John hesitated before answering, "I love you too Sherlock." Sherlock made

a satisfied sigh before shutting the door to his room behind him. John walked

into his room, closed the door behind him, and sighed deeply. John sat down on

the bed in his cold room which seemed much colder in comparison to the warmth of

his flatmate's embrace. He stared out his window at the falling snow covering

the street, wondering how it came to be that he has fallen for his flatmate.

John rubbed his eyes and got under the covers, falling asleep at the sight of

the falling snowflakes. His last though before sleep submerged him was that he

wished a certain consulting detective could be lying under the warm covers

beside him.

Author's note: well if you read to the end of this insanely long story, I

applaud you! You must ether really like Sherlock/johnlock or are really really

bored. I apologize for any misspelt words or improper grammar. I don't live in

England but I tried to use some of the British terms that I knew of which may

explain why certain words are spelt differently. Umm I think I will make a

sequal ( if I have time) but umm... Idk what else to say... Criticism is greatly

appreciated just not too many flames k? Well thank you guys and good night!


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